Chapter Two
Three Days Later
What it's not: This is not about vampires.
The forecast predicted a warm, sunny day. The weather decided not to oblige. The sun had drifted away on grey clouds as soon as they reached the boat dock. The trip to Scott's island took less than an hour. By then the distant sound of thunder could be heard. A storm was coming.
Now, they were walking up a winding road that felt more like a mountain than a hill. The incline was high, the air thin. He was already winded and there still wasn't any indication that they were anywhere near their destination. How long had they been walking? The road seemed to repeat itself like a treadmill. They were guided by a man named Bob, who'd merely introduced himself as a servant before starting on the journey. Napoleon kept his eyes on the man. He reminded him of Frankenstein's monster. He was tall like the monster, too, at least seven feet of pure muscle. He would be formidable in a fight. He hoped it didn't come to that. In any event, he had it easier than April. She was wearing heels. He didn't know how women wore those things, but Arden wouldn't step out of the house without them which is why April was stuck wearing them. He took her hand, and she smiled gratefully, almost leaning against him.
Napoleon looked on both sides of the road. Most of it was concealed by trees, but occasionally he caught a glimpse of the sea. It looked like a dot from this distance. Falling meant certain death.
"Stay away from the sides," Bob called out as if reading his mind. "No way to survive if you were to fall off. Almost happened to my brother." And on he walked.
Why would anyone want to build a house up here, he wondered. Earlier, Bob had apologized for the route they were taking, explaining that the usual bridge to the property had been washed away in a recent storm. Now, he was holding onto April for dear life and fighting his anger at the situation. Surely, there had to be another way up. They were still moving at a snail's pace, and he still didn't see a building.
The wind suddenly picked up, tossing dirt and gravel all around them. Napoleon shielded his eyes, grasping April's hand tighter. He heard a sound like a hundred people whispering, but he couldn't make out the words. Besides him, April walked on, shielding her eyes, giving no indication that she was hearing anything unusual.
Perhaps it was just the wind and his imagination running wild.
April squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. Then she was no longer there, just vanished and Bob turned around and looked at him.
"Be careful that you don't fall off," Bob said.
And just like that April was walking beside him again, her hand safely clutched in his. What had just happened?
"Everything will be fine," April said. "You'll see."
Napoleon pulled her closer.
"Are you okay?" April whispered.
"Yes," he managed to say.
The road flattened out, giving them a reprieve from the climb. April had let go of his hand as they picked up speed. The storm was getting closer, but the wind and the unnerving whispering had stopped. Then a flash of lightning illuminated the nightmare in front of them.
It was Dracula's castle.
"Are you seeing this?" he said, keeping his voice low.
"Yes," April replied.
So, he wasn't crazy. He really was looking at an exact replica of Vlad the Impaler's castle in Transylvania. The Impaler had been the inspiration for Bram Stocker's Dracula. The description of the castle had been lifted from the original and placed in the classic book. Now he was literally walking towards his home. It had been the stuff of nightmares when he'd been an impressionable ten-year-old boy. What was it now? And how the hell did Scott find the time to build it? A place like this would take years to construct. Just getting the supplies there would have been a monumental task.
"I don't like it," April murmured. "It's unspeakable."
"Neither do I," he said as lightning lit the sky. They were being led to Dracula's castle by a man who resembled Frankenstein's monster. It would have been funny if it wasn't so serious.
The castle was situated on a cliff, the sea surrounding it like a moat. A flash of lightning revealed that it was gray and dusty, and decrepit with gatehouses and towers. If you made your escape from one of the lower-level windows, you would face at least a thousand-foot drop into the sea. He saw only one way out. They were on it now. How hard would it be to place men on the road to keep them from leaving?
"Look how dark it is," April said.
He hadn't noticed it, but the sky had gone pitch black. Napoleon could still see Bob walking up ahead, but April looked like a shadow walking beside him.
"It's not possible," she whispered.
And it wasn't. Storm or no storm, it was barely five in the evening.
"It's just the storm coming." Bob called out. "It's like the one that washed the bridge away. We must get inside before it hits." And he quickened his pace.
No storm Napoleon had ever seen could cause this sort of darkness. Not anywhere in the world and he'd been to places that spent months in daylight, followed by months of darkness. This was like someone had switched off the light.
Napoleon turned around and saw that it was dark everywhere, not just in the area of the castle. Whatever had caused the phenomena had taken natural light away as far as the eye could see.
Is this what Scott had invented? Some sort of weather machine?
No way out. No way out, his mind screamed.
"Are you alright?" April whispered.
He had taken her hand again and didn't recall doing it. What was wrong with him? He'd never been so nervous on a mission. Nerves came later, after the mission, when the adrenalin rush hit you.
"I'm fine," Napoleon whispered. "I just didn't want you falling off this hill." He let go of her hand, fighting back the image of her falling to her death.
"This place isn't right, is it? Don't you feel it?" April asked.
Napoleon had no answers for that. It wasn't right. There was something sinister about it, something hidden beneath the surface that he couldn't grasp.
Maybe Waverly had been right to be concerned about him. He was unstable, emotionally drained, imagining things that go bump in the night. He was putting both their lives in danger, but there was no one else who knew Arden well enough to pull this off. If the mission were to be a success, he needed to get his act together.
Thunder boomed shaking the ground to its core. Fog lifted suddenly, surrounding them. And then everything went silent as if someone commanded the world to hush. And yet, he could still see the trees moving, see the gravel swirling through the fog.
Then the shadow appeared.
Tall, dark, foreboding, it was swathed in a lose-fitting dark robe. It stood at the castle entrance. But that wasn't quite correct. It didn't stand. It floated slightly above the ground as if the wind were carrying it.
I'm seeing things. Has to be a trick of the light or someone else on the island. Or it's Scott and his sick version of trick-or-treat. But he didn't believe that. Call it instinct, but this was something else. Now the question-what did he believe? Did it matter? There was someone waiting.
Napoleon was reaching for his gun when April placed a hand over his hand. "It's not really there," she whispered, which didn't make sense. Still, April had six senses to his five. Maybe she'd picked up on something. He'd have to ask her later. Bob had slowed his pace and was close enough to hear their conversation. Napoleon settled on watching the figure cautiously. Sometimes it looked like a sheet blowing in the wind. Sometimes it looked like a man wearing long robes. Always it moved, but the movement didn't look normal. It was a figure without substance.
Suddenly it wasn't there.
"We're almost there," Bob said. "You're in for a treat." He spoke as if he hadn't witnessed the thing on the road.
Where had it gone?
Was it hiding behind a tree, ready to jump out at them? Had it managed to find a way to get behind them? Dare he turn around to see it? And if he did, what would he see? Would he see its face?
"It's fine," April said. "We'll soon be inside." She spoke with Arden's voice. It was disconcerting in the darkness. He couldn't really see her, and he was no longer holding her hand. But it was as if he walked alone.